


Gremory Robes

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sweet, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22800661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Annette expected the intense swell of pride at seeing her best friend in her new Gremory robes, but what she wasn't expecting was to have to excuse herself to her quarters three times that morning because of how good Mercedes looked in them.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 8
Kudos: 110





	Gremory Robes

The morning Mercedes gets her Gremory robes, she’s so pretty that Annette has to rub herself off twice. The bodice hugs her dear friend tight and highlights all the right places: it clings to her waist and bosom, lingering on the hips just long enough before cascading down to her feet. She looks powerful in bold fur accents because she is powerful. That’s the sexiest thing about Mercedes. Of course she passed her certification exam. She’s incredible.

Goddess help her, it’s not yet noon and that need is already cresting again, coaxing Annette back to her bed and her fantasies. 

She can’t help it. Mercedes radiates pride, glowing so bright Annette can still see her silhouette when she closes her eyes. She had to excuse herself from their mid-morning tea to keep her desires at bay, then again when Mercie preened under the Professor’s compliments in the garden. Oh, to be the one to make her blush like that.

All it takes this time is a smile in Annette’s direction. 

Thrice, Annette finds herself sliding her smallclothes, soaked through yet again, down her legs. She’ll need to wash them, but that’s a problem for later. 

Her dress slips over her head in a practiced motion, and she doesn’t care if it gets wrinkled on the floor. Her top follows—no need for fanfare this time, because she has a head full of Mercie in the sauna, Mercie casting spells, Mercie smiling and blushing in her direction, whispering  _ show me, Annie. Show me how you touch yourself. _

They’re already tender from too much attention, but Annette tugs at her nipples, rough, to take the edge off. Relief is fleeting and they stiffen immediately, but Annette doesn’t have the patience to tease herself. 

Lazy circles over her clit aren’t going to cut it like they had earlier this morning. She’s almost too frantic to get the incantation right, but healing magic tingles her skin in a trail from her core to her fingertips. Using faith spells to pleasure herself felt dirty at first, but the Goddess wouldn’t have given her this body if she didn’t mean for it to feel pleasure.

Mercie’s magic would feel different on her skin—warmer, sweeter, like it does when she heals Annette. It’s overwhelming, being under Mercie’s spell. Does everyone feel that way? Or just Annette? 

She lets the magic kiss her waist, her ribs, her breasts. Mercie’s are larger and Annette longs to feel the weight of them in her hands, to map them with tender kisses. She runs her hands through her hair—Mercie’s is softer, and this she knows because she’s braided it a thousand times. Mercedes plays with Annette’s hair sometimes, too, and these days, it leaves her shivering, craving more. 

Maybe this time will sate her, she thinks as she climbs onto her bed. It won’t, but she can pretend, just like she can pretend it’s Mercedes coaxing her onto her stomach, lifting her ass in the air and reaching between her legs to dip into her slick folds. After three times, she’s so wet it’s spread to her inner thighs, but she has no patience to tease herself any longer.

She rubs her clit in precise strokes, but that’s not where she needs pressure. This ache is deep inside, so deep only Mercie’s long, staff-callused fingers might reach it, but her own will have to do.

She pushes in two at once, crying out even though it’s not much of a stretch. Gentle thrusts aren’t enough, and she sets a fast pace, brushing her thumb over her clit every few pumps. Arching her back, she presses her breasts to the mattress and works her body to get some friction there, too. Mercie’s voice rings crystal clear in her head:  _ Do you want it harder? Then sing for me, Annie, let me hear you. _

Another cry slips out and Mercedes sounds so real that Annette opens her eyes. 

“Annie? Are you all right?”

Annette freezes. That really is Mercedes, right outside her door. “Yes!” she chokes out, withdrawing her fingers and wiping them on the sheets. “Just a second!”

Her skin is still electric, doused with panic as she throws on her nightshirt. She must look a wreck, but that’s nothing new for Mercedes. Perhaps Annette can claim a fever or food poisoning. Throwing a hand through her hair, she opens the door.

By some bittersweet miracle, Mercie’s changed out of her Gremory robes, but the kind concern on her face still flips Annette’s stomach. Hastily, Annette clasps her hands behind her back. She must  _ reek _ of sex.

Of course, Mercedes is too polite to comment. “I was worried about you, Annie. You don’t usually spend this much time in your room. Are you ill?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” says Annette. “Just feeling a little overheated.” It’s an understatement, but it’s not a lie.

“I see.” Mercedes smiles and Annette’s core throbs. “You might feel cooler if you took off your nightshirt.”

“What?!” It comes out in a squeak before Annette remembers her nightgown has long sleeves and a high collar. She laughs too loudly. 

Mercedes tilts her head and takes a step into the room. Annette takes a step toward her discarded undergarments, hoping to block them from sight. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Mercedes asks, her voice softer still (which definitely won’t help her cool down). “I know we just saw each other, but I missed you, Annie.”

“Y-you did?” If Annette didn’t know better, she’d swear Mercedes was…no, it couldn’t be.

Mercedes nodded. “The idea of you up here feeling lonely made me so sad.”

“It did?” Annette lets out another squeak, but this one’s almost excited.

Mercedes comes closer, until they’re face to face. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you that you’re not alone, Annie.” She reaches up to cup Annette’s cheeks in her hands. 

“Mercie…” Annie breathes it out. Whenever she and Mercie are this close, she wants to melt into that smile, only this time, Mercedes just might let her.

Maybe she always would have let her. 

“May I kiss you, Annie?” 

All Annette can do is nod. 

Mercie’s lips are even softer than in Annette’s dreams. Gentle as it is, the kiss knocks her back a step and she throws her arms out to catch herself. Mercedes catches her instead. She takes Annette by the waist and whispers, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to.”

“Of course I want to!” Annette cries. “I didn’t know you felt the same way.” 

Whenever Mercie giggles, the sun comes out, but she’s never burned so bright. “Oh, Annie, we’ve been so silly.”

Mercie’s giggles are always contagious, and Annette buckles with laughter until their foreheads tap. 

It’s so gentle, so intimate, and the room falls silent. 

Mercie holds her gaze, and oh, this is different. Her blue eyes look darker—Annette never accounted for that in her fantasies, and it takes her breath away. 

Then Mercie whispers, “I heard you call my name.”

Annette gasps and covers her mouth with her hands in a panic. She can smell herself on her fingers. “I’m sorry!” 

"Don't be." And Mercie, unfailingly kind, ever patient Mercie, takes Annette’s hands in her own, closing her eyes and kissing each finger in turn. Annette can’t breathe until Mercie locks eyes with her once more. “Can I hear you say it again?”

Annette’s been through thick and thin with Mercie, but she’s never heard that low, sultry edge to her voice before. It fills her with confidence.

“Oh, Mercie…” Saying her name like that, knowing the woman she loves is finally going to hear her—it’s so much better than she imagined. “I won’t let you down.”

“You could never, not even if you tried,” Mercie replies before kissing her lips again. It’s not long before they’re both naked, touching each other in places they had only ever dreamed of. Mercie’s hands are better than Annette’s dreams, too—on her, inside her—and Annette can’t believe she can have this: her best friend, her lover. It overwhelms her and she’s giggling again. Mercedes is, too. 

There’s so much she wants to do, so many things they can do together. Annette hopes they’ll have time for everything, but the war doesn’t care how long it took them to get here. 

This moment, though, holding each other in the afterglow, is perfect, and not even a war can take that away from them. 

**Author's Note:**

> i adore these two and i've been wanting to write this scenario for ages! thanks so much for reading. maybe next time...annette will eat out...


End file.
